Of Obligations and Desperation
by skag trendy
Summary: Following a confrontation with a despair demon, a fight between the brothers sends Sam over the edge. Set Season 2 after Croatoan. Limp/Hurt/emotionally broken Sam. Angry/Angsty/Protective Dean. Warning: suicide attempt.
1. Chapter 1

**Of Obligations and Desperation**

**Chapter One**

_**Following a confrontation with a despair demon, a fight between the brothers sends Sam over the edge.**_

_**Set Season 2 after Croatoan.**_

_**Limp/Hurt/emotionally broken Sam. Angry/Angsty/Protective Dean.**_

_**Warning: suicide attempt.**_

_**Author's notes:**_** A stupid little something I came up with on call last night when I was in the mood for some angst. Just a small break away from the Top Secret project I've been working on. Not particularly well written and nothing special, but I do hope you enjoy it. **

**Idea nicked half-heartedly from an episode of Red Dwarf. **

**Let me know if you want me to continue with this.**

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"Well this sucks out loud." Dean stripped off his sodden shirt and threw it carelessly to one side. Water dripped off the end of his nose and he shook his head, rain droplets flying outwards and spraying his younger brother.

Sam barely paid attention. He sat quietly on his bed; shoulders slumped, ignoring his own wet clothes. Sam just stared down at the grimy carpet.

"Sam? Hey!" Dean snapped his fingers right in Sam's face, startling him. "You with me?"

"Huh?" Sam blinked and blew out a breath. "Sorry. You were saying?"

Dean stared at him with narrowed eyes.

"What the hell's wrong with you? You been distracted all damn day." There was the faintest hint of annoyance mixed with concern and Sam hadn't exactly been in the best of moods lately. Dean was getting a little frustrated with his younger sibling's shitty attitude.

The run in with a despair demon had ended with a dramatic exorcism, but not before Dean landed on his head hard enough to rattle teeth, and he kind of blamed Sam for that. Something was wrong with the kid.

Despair demons were a rarity but incredibly powerful, attacking its victim's psyche and upping their despair to dangerous levels. Sometimes the result was suicide, as was the case with a town sheriff who ate a bullet earlier that week, but often the victim became enraged and left a trail of carnage across the state. The brothers had been tracking the activity for weeks; after a high school shooting and one grisly incident involving a madman letting loose with an axe in a grocery store, they finally figured out what they were dealing with.

And put a stop to it.

"You _know_ what's up." Sam's sullen answer disrupted his brother's thoughts.

Dean sighed, grabbed a towel and began mopping up rain water from his face.

"Brooding aint gonna change a thing dude." Dean shrugged nonchalantly. "Just 'cos Dad said it, don't mean he's right."

He turned and pulled out a clean dry shirt from his duffle, missing the grimace of disbelief that crossed his brother's face.

"What? Since when did you turn into a Doubting Thomas?" Sam's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "I mean, Dad's word is still gospel right?"

Dean's head shot round in anger at the sarcasm. "That aint fair Sam!"

"No it's not...you're right." Sam got to his feet and began to pace the room. "None of this is fair. Dad had his secrets sure, I get that. But this was something involving _me_ Dean. I had a right to know and he _kept_ it from me!"

"Sammy…"

The pacing paused for a just second then continued as Sam kept up his rant. A rant which, in Dean's view, was probably more than a little justified. He understood his brother's anger, hadn't wanted to tell him in the first place. But as the kid pointed out, he had a right to know.

_He said I might have to kill you…_

Jesus. Sam had every right to be angry. But it wouldn't solve anything, especially if he couldn't keep his mind on the job.

"How long did he know Dean? Before Salvation? After?" Sam sounded more hurt than angry now. "He had plenty of time to _warn_ me. But he didn't trust me _as usual_." He shook his head, eyes suddenly brimming with tears. "I guess he was convinced huh? Shows how much faith he had in me. That's why he only told you. He…he thought I was…"

"Stop it." Dean spoke quietly but firmly and moved to stand in Sam's path. "He said _might_ Sam. Ok? _Might_. You're making too much of this…"

"What?" Sam yelped, his face scrunched up in astonishment. "Making too…" he shifted from foot to foot, struggling to get the words out "he said you might have to _kill me_, Dean. Not lock me up, or knock me out…_kill _me, and you think I'm making too much of it?"

Dean winced. "Wasn't quite what I meant. I'm just sayin' nobody knows for sure ok? Nothin's set in stone dude."

Sam huffed, chin falling to his chest. "Wanna bet? Those were Dad's last words to you. Makes it pretty final." The sarcasm was gone, replaced by misery and hopelessness.

Dean felt a stirring of anger and he wasn't quite sure who it was aimed at. John for putting this on his shoulders in the first place, Sam for giving up so early on in the game, or himself for having his own doubts. The incident with Amson and Andy some months ago had highlighted those doubts against his will; Andy's scary mojo forcing him to reveal his inner fears in front of his brother. Given Sam's reaction at the time Dean wasn't surprised his little brother was taking this latest revelation very much to heart.

"Sammy it'll be ok." Dean tried out a cocky smile but it fell flat. "It's my job to watch out for you remember?"

Sam snorted without humour. "Yeah. I've always been your _job_ huh Dean? Dad didn't exactly give you much of a choice about it."

Dean frowned deeply, not sure if he shouldn't be a little insulted but Sam had more to say and it shocked the h*ell out of him. The kid slowly turned round, red rimmed eyes seeking Dean's.

"Do you even love me?" Sam's soft voice held the barest quiver. "Did you ever? Or was I just an obligation to you, a burden you had to deal with just 'cos _Dad _couldn't?"

Gaping, Dean felt the tenuous control over his temper slipping.

"You never got to do what you wanted," Sam seemed oblivious to the effect he was having on his older brother, his face a picture of sadness. "I was always hanging around like a bad smell. You can't tell me you would've _chosen_ that if you could. And now that bastard left you with a brother that may need putting down like a rabid dog…"

He didn't remember grabbing Sam by his jacket, he only remembered the inner _snap_ as his temper got its way and suddenly he was smashing Sam up against the motel room wall, his brother's head bouncing violently off the cracked plaster.

"Shut up Sam." Dean hissed in his face. "You think I wanted all this? You think I enjoyed all those years you fought with him? As for love…" he let go and backed off shaking with anger "I took care of you, kept you safe, told you stories at bedtime, dried your tears…what more proof do you need? I gave up everything for you!"

Sam watched him sadly. "That's not love Dean," he whispered softly "that's duty. Not the same as love."

Dean stared back at him in angry amazement. "Just what the hell do you want from me? I'm doing the best I can Sammy!"

Sam dropped his gaze to the floor, tears finally spilling over and running down his cheeks. "Guess you just answered my question."

"What damn question?" Dean ground out and turned away, fists clenched at his sides.

"Yellow Eyes back at the cabin…demons lie…I was never Dad's favourite." Sam sniffed miserably. "You were the one he spoke to just before he died. _You_ were the one he said his goodbyes to…not me."

His brother let out a snort. "You really that surprised? All you ever did was question his orders! Little wonder the guy never trusted you." Dean couldn't believe they were even having this conversation. He knew Sam was the emo bitch of the Winchester duo but this was getting stupid. "Seriously dude, you're having a hissy fit just 'cos Daddy didn't pay you enough attention? Christ! Aren't you just the ungrateful self-centred little brat!" Inwardly he flinched at his own cruel words but his mouth carried on running away. "It all has to be about you don't it? Even when you were a kid, Dad had to put up with your whining and bitching, and you didn't even let up in his last few minutes of life. Then there's that all freaky psychic stuff, visions and God knows what else…can you blame us for having doubts about you?"

There it was. Truly out in the open.

"You're right." Came the soft reply.

The last thing Dean saw of his little brother was Sam's grief-stricken face disappearing out the door.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Dean made no move to go after him. They both needed space and he was certain his little brother would come back after some down time.

He was oh so wrong.

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Sam trudged miserably through the freezing rain, not caring where he was going. The rain was useful anyhow; it covered the tear tracks on his face. His heart had been heavy for weeks but now it was breaking…_broken_.

Dean had never said it, not once told Sam he loved him in his entire life. Call it weird but that hadn't bothered Sam up until now. _Now_ it seemed the most important thing in the world, as though not hearing the words meant his brother couldn't possibly love him. _Ever._

And Sam was pretty certain his brother _hated_ him.

Loneliness and fear welled up, absolute terror taking over and engulfing him. Sam suddenly couldn't find his way out, dark thoughts drowning him with little mercy.

_Plans for you Sammy…_

_If I couldn't save you I have to kill you…_

_Am I supposed to go dark side…?_

… _You might have to waste me someday…_

But something else was creeping up unnoticed in the back of his head.

_He doesn't love you…never has…_

…_pain in the ass little brother…_

…_John never loved you…hated you…_

…_too little too late…_

…_he lost Mary and got you instead…_

…_Dean hates you…_

…_hates you…_

…_HATES YOU!_

Sam cried out and stumbled to his knees, hands fisted in his hair as the blackness inside stirred up, confusing him, terrorising him, stripping him of all logic and replacing it with…

The worst thing of all.

_Nothing._

Cold shaking hands suddenly released their grip on his head and he slowly rose to his feet again. Blinking rain water out of his eyes he turned and crossed the street, aiming for a small liquor store next to an Italian restaurant.

Emerging a few minutes later carrying a brown paper bag, Sam set out to find somewhere quiet, somewhere he could be alone.

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Sam took another long gulp of tequila and stared out into the night. He wanted to get drunk one final time, to dull the pain and fortify him with Dutch courage. Reaching down to his ankle holster he slowly withdrew the hunting blade and stared morosely at his dim reflection in the metal. The dark thoughts continued, pressing excitedly, urging him on.

_Not good enough…_

…_never trusted you…_

…_whining…bitching…_

…_Dean doesn't need you…_

…_blood…let the blood spill…so much of it…need to let it out…_

Sam knew what to do and how to do it.

He'd been taught by the best.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Of Obligations and desperation**

**Chapter 2**

_**Author's notes: **_**So here is the promised chapter. Unfortunately I didn't quite get the polishing time I hoped for but you guys seemed so eager to read on and I was running out of time. Hope its ok. Many thanks for all your wonderful reviews and support. Really needed right now I'm afraid.**

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Two hours later he was still searching when the call came.

"Sam?"

The silence was worrying, though Dean could hear shaky breathing on the other end of the line.

"Sammy come on, talk to me." Shifting the phone so it rested more comfortably in the crook of his neck, he manoeuvred the heavy car round a hair pin bend. "Look Sam…"

"_M'sorrrrry D'n_."

Dean frowned. "Sammy, are you drunk?"

Light slurred chuckling was followed by a retching noise and Dean winced. It sounded like his brother was being sick.

"Hey," he called softly "tell me where you are and I'll come get you."

The retching eventually stopped and Sam's sad voice spoke up. "_Nah…no point bro. S'alittlelateanyhow…jus'...wannasayI'msorry…loveyou…alwayshave.._._D-Dean…_" A soft groan and a slight thud echoed down the line before everything went quiet again.

"Sam?" Dean's grip on the cell tightened to almost breaking point as sheer unadulterated fear kicked in. "Sammy what have you done? Sam! SAMMY!"

Dean kept the line open and stomped down on the throttle, heading for the nearest ER. He kept on talking, trying to get through to him and praying Sam's phone didn't run out of juice.

Gritting his teeth, Dean's nostrils flared angrily. He should have known. Should have seen it coming. The despair demon was gone but it left one last victim in its wake. And who better than Sam Winchester, whose head was a minefield of guilt and angst? The poor kid was ripe for the picking, must have stood out like a damn beacon, emotionally vulnerable after their father's demise and declaration of Sam's possible destiny.

And Dean's own role in all this? Sure he'd been angry, but the minute those hateful words left his mouth he'd known it was wrong.

"Seems like Sam wasn't the despair demon's _only_ target in all this." Dean muttered aloud. And that actually made a lot of sense in the long run. Two for the price of one.

It was a wonder his little brother hadn't tried to off himself sooner.

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His vision was fading, head achy, body weakening, and ever so slowly he was letting go. Blood pumped, surrounding him, its bitter metallic scent filling his nostrils. Distantly he could hear Dean yelling for him, voice tinny and small from the earpiece of his cell phone.

"Dean…m'cold....so c-cold" he tried one last time but the dark thoughts crowded round, prying him loose.

…_doesn't need you…_

…_doesn't trust you…_

…_hates you…_

He let out one final whimper, before all conscious thought faded.

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The dispatcher was able to trace Sam's cell phone easy enough, and Dean followed the ambulance through the dark streets, rain still pounding the windshield like it wanted to smash right through the glass. His heart was thudding painfully, hands sweating and slipping on the steering wheel as they raced through the night.

The park was poorly lit by old-style carriage lanterns, soft light strategically placed for romantic effect, but Dean couldn't really appreciate the finer points of the recreation ground, not with the rain soaking him to the skin for the second time that day and a little brother lying out there somewhere, probably in a pool of his own vomit. And that was actually good news. If Sam really was puking his guts up earlier then it was good chance anything he'd swallowed down with alcohol would be mostly clear from his system, leaving the kid in an alcohol induced sleep. Assuming he didn't die of liver poisoning or choke on his own vomit, he'd be fine.

_Yeah, real comforting._

The two EMTs split up, one searching the north end of the park, the other the Eastern side. Dean took up the task of sweeping the rest, checking every park bench and anywhere else he could think of; he searched every inch of the place. But as the old saying goes 'always in the last place you look'.

The bandstand was a large ornate iron structure raised up on a wooden platform. The heavy roof was a little worse for wear after years of being battered by the elements, but it kept the rain off the figure lying unmoving on his stomach at the back. Dean's flashlight picked out a mop of messy damp chestnut hair but it also revealed a frightening amount of blood and vomit.

_Oh God!_

"Sam?" Dean took the steps in one leap and dropped down by his brother's side, fingers already reaching for the kid's neck. "Oh Christ kid what the hell have you done?"

There was a pulse but it was weak and thready, barely there. Rolling Sam on to his back, Dean checked his breathing, relief flooding him at the slight rise and fall of the boy's chest. But it was his wrists…

Long gashes, starting near the base of his hands and ending an inch or two from his elbows, still pouring with blood. How the hell the kid managed it on _both_ wrists, given the severed nerves and tendons, Dean couldn't figure out. Presumably the demon made it possible, sticking to the same MO.

"Yeah, keep it sick, keep it bloody. Shoulda remembered that." Dean swore viciously then shrugged out of his jacket and began tearing strips off his shirt to tightly wrap the boy's ruined wrists, but the material was soaked through in seconds. An overdose was still a possibility but doubtful and even as he thought about it, Dean knew that wouldn't be Sam's suicide method of choice.

_Choice....right..._

"Hold on Sammy," Dean whispered to his unconscious brother. "Just hold on. Help's on the way."

Pulling out his phone he put in a call to one of the EMTs, barking out his position at the bandstand, informing them of Sam's condition, and pretty soon two flashlight beams cut through the dim park in the distance, bobbing up and down jerkily. One suddenly split off and headed away at speed back to the park entrance.

Sam's face was slack and pale, lips slightly parted, and the pungent bitter odour of second hand tequila hung in the air almost like a haze. An empty glass bottle lay on its side nearby next to Sam's bloodstained hunting knife, and Dean supposed he should have been grateful his brother hadn't been armed with a handgun.

The kid was soaked to the skin; small tremors running up and down his cold body had Dean carefully pulling Sam up into his arms, cradling the limp body close, trying to keep him warm.

The EMT made it to the steps of the bandstand and clambered up, calling out questions and lugging his medical kit with him.

"Was he unconscious when you found him?"

Dean nodded not taking his anxious gaze off Sam. "Uhuh. He hasn't woken up at all, but he's still breathing. Just."

He held on tight, grateful the EMT didn't try to take Sam from him as he began treatment. Whispering softly in his brother's ear and holding the offered oxygen mask over the kid's mouth and nose, Dean felt his panic recede slightly as the plastic fogged up with every shaky breath Sam took.

Given the state of his wrists the paramedic opted to insert an IV line in Sam's neck, attached a small pulse oximeter to his left index finger, and finally covered both Winchesters in warm blankets.

"Jack will be back with the ambulance soon," this EMT had introduced himself as Pete during the desperate search for Sam. Dean liked his calm demeanour and quiet voice, appreciating the guy's job was to also keep him calm. "I'd like to wrap his wrists in sterile bandages but I could use your help." Pete raised an eyebrow with a kind worried smile

Dean cleared his throat nervously. "Sure. What do you want me to do?"

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The ambulance was backed up as far as it could go to the bandstand, red lights flashing through the still pouring rain. Jack carried a collapsible gurney across the grass, boots shining wetly and reflective jacket streaming with water.

Dean ignored the rain pounding on the roof and kept watch over his brother. Sam was cocooned in the blankets and Dean's arms, the cold slowly fought off by shared body heat as the youngster warmed up.

Pete heard the older brother's whispered words of comfort and encouragement but kept his mouth shut, not wanting to intrude. Besides, some of it didn't make any sense and he figured he was better off minding his own business.

"I'm sorry Sammy. So sorry for what I said." Dean gently rocked the kid to and fro, eyes fixed firmly on his little brother's face. "I shoulda known the demon got to you. I knew something was wrong and I just let you walk away. Please don't leave me Sammy....not after..._not after Dad_..."

The EMT continued working on the poor kid, trying to slow the bleeding and replace lost fluids, whilst his colleague set down the gurney and wiped rain water from his stinging eyes.

"Hellish bad weather. I swear it's gotten worse." Jack spluttered out then sniffed loudly. "Ok, let's get the kid strapped in and in the back of the ambulance. Sooner we all get out of this monsoon the better." He glanced up at the angry sky and grimaced.

Pete followed his gaze, nodding in agreement. "He's gonna need a hell of a transfusion."

"I already radioed ahead," Jack confirmed with a tight grin. "The boys and girls are ready for him." He took a closer look at the older brother. "You ok there buddy?"

Dean gave a shaky nod and rested his chin on Sam's head. "Yeah, just…please don't lose him. I can't let him go. He's all I've got left."

Jack's face softened when he saw the unshed tears in Dean's eyes. "He's in good hands. We'll do everything we can for him, I promise."

Dean clenched his jaw to almost breaking point as he allowed the medics to take his little brother from him. His arms felt cold and empty without Sam's weight but he reached out and gripped on tightly to a lifeless hand, the EMTs working round him with little difficulty.

"Ok we're ready to go." Pete and Jack lifted the gurney allowing the legs to drop down, and swiftly wheeled their unconscious patient to the ambulance. Dean followed on, and climbed up to take his place beside his brother. Not one word of protest was made by the medics when Dean refused to be dropped off at his car. He'd collect it later once he knew Sam was going to be ok.

Glancing down at the pale, still figure on the gurney his heart clenched with fear.

_And he __**will **__be ok._ Dean was determined. _He's not gonna die on me 'cos I'm not gonna let him._

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_**Author's notes: **_**So there you have it. Medical facts aren't particularly sound in this, and please remember that this is hurriedly written since my priorities really are with the Top Secret project. This was just a break for me.**

**Kind regards,**

**ST xxx **


	3. Chapter 3

**Of Obligations and Desperation**

**Chapter 3**

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_**Author's notes:**_** Thanks so much for all your reviews my darlings and I do intend to reply. Really appreciated, especially as most of you know how frustratingly insecure I am about my stories. Whilst we're on the subject there's an author new to the fandom that I think all Limp Sam girls should be aware of: ****ChristianGateFan‏ has recently started posting an incredible story involving lots of tortured, Limp Sam, and I have to say that I'm quite jealous at just how much talent this kid has. It's really quite superb and brilliantly written and I personally feel the boys are characterised just right. So go give it a shot...and leave a review! ****It's called Don't Let Go. And trust me when I say that you won't be disappointed for the effort.**

_**On with the story...**_

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Dean glared at the doctor, blood boiling with rage.

"You can't do that!" He snapped, but the physician just smiled in a sad kind of way that made Dean want to rip his face right off.

"I'm afraid I can." Dr Velosa was a tall dark middle aged Portuguese guy with kind eyes, thick rimmed glasses, and seemed sympathetic enough but no way was he budging on this. "Sam's suicide attempt was particularly brutal. He cut open his wrists and left a ten inch long gash in each arm, then there's the amount of alcohol in his system which was dangerous enough. I'm sorry Mr Collins, but he can't leave here until he's had a full psychiatric evaluation." The doc studied Dean closely, noting his shocked, pale complexion and softened his approach. "Look, this is all for discussion at a later date and I promise you'll be involved at every stage of his treatment. But Sam has more worrying problems right now. He came through the surgery to repair the muscle damage, but that's not all he's facing."

Struggling to keep his cool – _and __**not**__ rip his face off_ - Dean took long slow deep breaths before answering.

"Can I at least see him? If he wakes up and I'm not there he'll be scared." _Though the way things have been lately he might be scared anyhow._

Dr Velosa nodded, ready to concede that much. "Of course, that can only help matters. Follow me." He kept on talking quietly as they trekked from the waiting room. "Your brother needed six units of blood. I'm amazed he survived at all. The good news is there's no sign of infection…"

Dean's ears pricked up at that; good news was always followed by... "What's the bad news?"

"He was in deep shock when he came in, the blood loss was one thing but the hypothermia was pretty severe as you know," The doc held open a set of swing doors as they moved deeper into the hospital. "We're not sure how long it will be before he wakes up, and I must warn you there's a chance he won't…"

"Sam's waking up." Dean cut him off, jaw set stubbornly, daring the doc to say otherwise. "You don't know him like I do."

The doc cast him a pitying look. "Sam went into respiratory arrest not long after surgery," he stopped by a door bearing the room number 621 and turned sad brown eyes his way. "Your brother isn't fighting back," he added softly "it's as though he's given up."

Dean's eyes widened with worry. "No. He'll be fine I _know_ it."

Dr Velosa nodded and grasped the door knob. "Just prepare yourself ok? Sam's on a ventilator and I've put him in soft restraints." He held up a hand to still the protest he could see forming on the older brother's lips. "For his own good. We don't know what his state of mind is gonna be like when - _if_ - he wakes up. They're quite loose and he'll hardly know he's wearing them. They're mainly there to prevent any more damage to his arms, but I also have to think of the safety of my staff."

Tamping down his rage Dean nodded sharply but said nothing. He really didn't like this; his brother deserved better than to wake up in a world that had him tied down like an animal. And as for the threat of keeping him here with some shrink…_no way_. Not happening any time soon. Dean was already planning his younger sibling's escape; a simple plot involving a lab coat, wheelchair and some serious sweet talking.

The doc pushed the door open and stood to one side, making way for his patient's brother. All escape plans were blown away and replaced with dread as Dean's eyes fixed on the form under the blankets. Now he could see for himself just how bad things looked for Sam. The kid was ghostly pale, face sunken, lips lifeless around the vent. If it weren't for the incessant bleep of the cardiac monitor Dean could have sworn Sam was dead. Both arms were heavily bandaged, bent at a slight angle and raised up on pillows. And yeah, Dean could now see the point of the soft restraints, keeping his arms immobile at the elbows. Once he woke up…

…_and he's waking up. I swear it._

…he'd have a limited range of movement, just enough to be comfortable but not enough to harm himself.

"I'll come back later after my rounds." Doc Velosa announced softly. "If you have any questions by all means get one of the night staff to page me."

"Yeah," Dean agreed absently, still reeling in shock. "Sure." He didn't hear the doc leave, his attention held solely by his sleeping brother.

Sitting down at the bedside and casting a critical eye over all the machines, Dean took a shaky breath before returning his gaze to Sam's face.

"Sammy," he whispered, watching closely for any sign of life. "Time to wake up now little bro."

Not so much as a twitch. Dean chewed on his bottom lip.

"C'mon quit kidding around! We gotta get out of here." He leaned into Sam's ear. "They planning on having you sectioned. Ya know? The whole padded cell, straight jacket and basket weavers deal."

Sam slept on, the vent hissing and clicking as it kept him breathing.

"Sammy please," Dean abandoned the gentle teasing in favour of pleading and begging. He could hear the fear in his own voice but figured it couldn't hurt to try. "You have to wake up. I know I said some stupid things, and I know I hurt you…_please_. Don't wanna do this alone. Can't do this without you and neither can the Impala. She seriously misses you kiddo; we both want our Sasquatch back in her passenger seat."

Running the back of a hand lightly over Sam's cheek, Dean smiled through his tears, mouth trembling ever so slightly.

"Sam, I don't know what the future holds for either of us, but I'm gonna be right here beside you, and not because Dad ordered me to." Dean dropped his gaze to Sam's injured arms. "Because I _want_ to." He chuckled sadly. "That demon really did a number on us huh? Wish I'd known what was going through your head sooner, but I guess that was part of its plan."

He sat for hours just talking, hoping the constant drone of his voice would piss Sam off into awakening and telling him to shut up. Not that the kid would be able to talk round the vent.

Dean finally acknowledged his desperation and called Bobby Singer during a coffee run; the older hunter was on his way over with fake medical and psychiatric notes. Bobby wouldn't be the one showing up of course; one Dr Cliff Burton, Sam's personal psychiatrist, who incidentally bore an astonishing resemblance to Bobby Singer, would take Dr Velosa to one side and politely explain that his patient was off limits to the hospital psyche team. He would also explain that once Sam's physical state was much improved the kid was leaving with him, no questions asked. Dean wasn't too sure how the physician would react to being undermined and didn't much care. His main worry was how Sam was faring.

Bobby felt certain the despair demon was gone and that Sam's suicide attempt was merely the after effects, and wouldn't happen again. Dean clung on to that hope like a drowning man to a life raft, but he still had his deep seated doubts. He didn't like the idea of keeping Sam restrained, under lock and key and drugged even at Bobby's yard, and the effort involved in steering Sam clear of dangerous objects for his own safety would be exhausting.

"Don't worry little bro," he whispered, gently stroking Sam's scalp. "Bobby's got everything in hand. All ya gotta do for us now is to wake up."

But it wasn't enough. He'd badly hurt his brother and something else had to be said. With Sam unconscious it was the perfect opportunity, so he took the plunge, knowing he'd hate himself later. "I know I never say it…but I do love you Sammy. You're my little brother and I'll always love you."

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A couple of days later Dean woke up to panicked wailing and bleeping in the early hours of the morning, hands gripping the chair arms and blinking his eyes rapidly.

"Sam!"

His brother was arching off the bed, choking and gasping, arms weakly struggling against his restraints. But Dean noticed his eyes were open and rolling wildly in their sockets, face fixed in a grimace of pain and fear.

Getting in Sam's line of sight merely caused more distress and his choking grew worse.

"Sammy calm down dude," Dean gently cradled Sam's head in his hands, holding him still and smiling into wide terrified eyes. "You're on a vent. Just let it breathe for you, ok? Maybe the doc will take you off this thing now you're awake."

But the kid was terrified.

"Sam....Sammy...things aint what they were. I promise." Dean stared down at him, trying so hard to make things right, to offer hope. "It's alright little bro. M'not gonna hurt you again."

Sam gradually calmed with his brother's gentle coaxing but he still looked scared half to death, eyes darting round the room, then down at his bandaged arms strapped to the bed. Dean wiped away the tears from Sam's face when the kid once again turned his pleading gaze on him.

"You remember what happened?"

Sam nodded uncertainly, eyes filling with yet more tears.

_And who can blame him?_

"The despair demon got to you bro...kinda got to both of us in fact, but my despair came out as anger." Dean went back to stroking his scalp. "You tried to kill yourself, got drunk and slit your wrists wide open. We traced your cell phone signal and only just got there in time. God Sammy, I'm so sorry. Those things I said…Christ! You didn't deserve all that and I know you've been having a rough time..."

Light knocking on the door and a familiar face peered in at the brothers.

"Can I come in? Or are you two girls not finished?"

Dean grinned broadly in tired relief. "Dr _Burton_, good to see ya! Great timing by the way; Sammy just woke up."

"So I see." Bobby stepped into the room, his sharp gaze sweeping over Sam from head to foot. "You still feel the effects of that demon Sam? Be honest now."

Sam gave a small shake of the head, watery eyes taking in the suit and tie.

The older hunter smiled softly. The kid might be lying but only a little. "Good boy." Bobby turned to Dean. "I'm gonna find this Dr Velosa and straighten things out. I suggest you stay here with Sam."

A small whimper drew Bobby's attention back to Sam. The kid's eyes were gazing meaningfully at his restraints; it was obvious he wanted them gone.

"All in good time kid," Bobby winked. "Just play along for now ok? Sam Collins has quite a history of violent behaviour, self-harm and bi-polar affective disorder. Velosa aint gonna want you on the loose."

Sam blinked up at him in disbelief, still tugging on the arm straps.

Dean gently stilled his movements. "Stop that. You're gonna hurt yourself." He whispered softly. "Bobby's right Sam. It'll be easier springing you if your own doctor says you're a fruitcake; Doc Velosa's more likely to release you into Bobby's care that way. I already tried to persuade him you weren't insane but he wouldn't believe me, not from the way you…cut your wrists." He finished lamely and Sam winced a little.

The kid watched Dean tiredly, unable to do much else. Dean patted him on the shoulder.

"Get some sleep kiddo. Soon as you get the all clear we're heading back to Bobby's place."

Sam finally understood and gazed at his brother gratefully before his eyes slid closed, and his body relaxed into an instant slumber.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Later that day Sam came off the vent and his throat was sore as hell, but that wasn't going to be a problem. Once _Dr Burton_ had spoken with Dr Velosa and showed him the case notes on the history of Sam Collins, the latter decided for the sake of staff safety to sedate the patient, all the better to avoid nasty bites and foul language. Neither Sam nor Dean were too happy with that idea, but Bobby advised them suck it up. Stirring up trouble now would only make Doc Velosa suspicious, so as soon as the vent came out Sam was drugged up to the gills and put on nasal oxygen.

Dean watched over a heavily sedated Sam rather worriedly for the next week. He was still in restraints which infuriated the older brother to no end and the drugs meant the kid's breathing had slowed right down.

Bobby, AKA Doc Burton, stayed close to the boys most of the time, keeping the heat off them. In truth Bobby actually quite liked Dr Velosa; he genuinely cared for Sam's welfare as well as his team of nurses, and he was trying to do the right thing. But the guy was overworked with little sleep, so it was easy enough to keep the guy on side provided Dean kept his temper.

Sam's arms were healing slowly but surely, the surgery having done its job. The older brother kept a sharp eye on the wounds whenever the bandages were changed, insisting on staying in the room and breathing down the nurse's neck. Dean wasn't willing to let anyone near his vulnerable little brother without him or Bobby being there. And besides, the nurse had a very nice neck and her cleavage was also a fairly pleasing sight.

The following week saw the signing of Sam's release papers and the kid was gradually weaned off the sedatives. Dean couldn't help but worry at the way he was listing in the wheelchair; eyes blinking owlishly, head slumped to the side. His injured arms rested on top of a pillow spread across his legs and his body shivered with the cold the minute the outside air hit him.

"Here ya go Sammy," Dean tucked another blanket round his brother's shoulders, then placed a hand against the side of Sam's neck in support. "You with me?"

Sam squinted and blinked. "Uuuhhhuhhhh."

"That's ma boy."

It was all part of the act for Dr Velosa's benefit. Except it wasn't an act as far as poor Sam was concerned; Bobby was forced to administer one small final sedative for the journey, keeping up the pretence Sam was dangerous.

With a promise to call later that Bobby had no intention of keeping, Dr Cliff Burton and his patient disappeared off the radar for good, with Dean Collins following on behind in his own car.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Even though Bobby kept his speed down and took it easy Sam still had a terrible journey; the left over effects of the drugs were making him nauseous and he was travel sick more than once.

"S-sorrrryyyyy B-Bobbbbbby," Sam's eyes filled with tears.

"It's ok kid," Bobby was cleaning him up for third time, Sam sitting half in, half out of the car. "Not your fault."

"Wh-wherrrre's D-Deeeeaaannn?"

"He's right behind us Sam, don't you worry none." The older hunter pointed out the Impala as it pulled up behind his rental. "Hey Dean? You sure you want Sam in your car? He's still pretty sick."

Sam heard footsteps then someone was gently grasping his chin, and a pair of anxious green eyes were peering down at him.

"Hey buddy," Dean's voice was so soft and comforting Sam wanted to bawl his eyes out. "You wanna ride with me this time?"

Sam nodded slowly, eyelids at half mast. He opened his mouth but lacked any kind of strength to speak; only a small whimper came out and Dean was wiping away his tears again.

"Ssshhh Sammy. You'll feel better soon kiddo, just give it some time."

Lifting Sam up proved worryingly easy, seeing as he'd spent the last few weeks on IV nutrients. As soon as the drugs were out of his system the older brother swore to take him to a good diner for some serious chow time. Steak, egg, mushrooms, tomatoes and fries. Sam could bitch and whine as much he liked, but he was eating every mouthful even if Dean had to spoon feed him.

Laying Sam in the passenger seat of the Impala, Dean brushed a few strands of hair out of the kid's face and smiled into sleepy eyes. He felt instantly more settled and less anxious now that his little brother was back beside him.

"You can sleep all ya want kiddo." Tucking the blanket back around him, Dean smiled at him again then gently closed the door with a soft click. An instant later he slid behind the wheel and gunned the engine. "Let's go home huh?"

Sam's head rolled towards Dean on hearing his voice, but said nothing. Just kept his eyes closed and fell into a comfortable slumber.

Strangely, Sam wasn't sick again and the remaining journey passed without a hitch.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

**_Epilogue coming up soon!_**

**_Special note to Jen Burch and Sendintheclowns: you really are a great couple of gals and thank you so much for your help with the Top Secret Project._**


	4. Chapter 4

**Of Obligations and Desperation**

**Chapter 4**

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Sam slept away the days and nights, mostly unaware that two sets of worried eyes watched over him. Dean changed his bandages daily, checking for infection and cleaning carefully round the stitches. Though Bobby took on cooking duties gladly, it was Dean's job to gently shake his little brother awake at meal times, feed him like a baby since he was still too weak to feed himself, and generally keep him clean and change his clothes. Fluids and nutrients weren't a problem; Sam was on an IV drip twenty four-seven from the moment they got him back to the yard, until he was able to eat a full meal by himself.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Here ya go Sam," Dean held out a soupspoon of chicken broth and kept in a worried sigh when Sam just stared at him in bewilderment through half closed eyes. His mouth was slack enough to just nudge the spoon between his lips and let him sip at it slowly, some of it spilling over onto his shirt.

"Sorrrrryyy..." Sam slurred out, watery eyes looking up at him so full of sorrow that Dean had to blink back a few tears.

Dean just smiled back warmly. "Nothing to be sorry for Sammy." He muttered soothingly, grabbing a napkin and mopping up the mess. "Just you let me worry about it ok?"

Swallowing wasn't always easy, which was why the kid was half lying, half sitting in his older brother arms on the bed, Dean's long arm stretching up his back and hand supporting his head. It was comfortable enough that Sam could feed without too much effort but safe enough that Dean could push him upright and over should he choke.

It took nigh on a week before the sedatives showed signs of clearing from his system, and he gradually became more lucid. Dean and Bobby felt themselves beginning to relax a little during that time since Sam was able to communicate better.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam's injured arms were a real hindrance for the poor kid. He could barely lift or move them without pain, needed assistance with every simple task, up to and including help to pee. Not that he suffered with much embarrassment the first few times, he was so out of it. But as the drugs wore off Dean would spot a red faced Sam shuffling carefully along to the bathroom, one hand braced against the wall for balance, and without a single word he was there to assist, not even taking the opportunity to tease him over it.

Sam's frustration became apparent whenever he knocked himself clumsily on doorframes and furniture, stifling a painful cry by biting down on his bottom lip. But the absolute worst side effect of the drugs far as Sam was concerned were the bouts of depression. Shoulders slumped, tears running down his face, Sam never cried openly or loudly as such, preferring to suffer in silence and privacy, even more embarrassed by his tears than his brother helping him in the bathroom. But Dean sought him out every time, refusing to be more than a few feet from his little brother, and never allowing him out of his sight for long. The depression was clearly wearing him down and he could often be found just staring off into the distance, eyes dark with fear and sadness, until Dean's strong arms went round him, holding him tight and never uttering a word about it.

"Bobby," Dean murmured softly one morning and gestured towards his younger brother as he trudged dejectedly from the kitchen and headed out to sit on the porch swing. "You sure that's just the sedatives? I'm worried about him. He just seems so..." he waved a hand, unable to find the word.

"You banished the demon," Bobby reassured him, "Doc Velosa's medical team were overly cautious and it made Sam a little sick that's all; just be patient. Make sure he knows his recovery is going steady, that he'll get there even if it seems a little slow."

And though that was sound advice it didn't stop Dean worrying and watching. He tried to keep his distance some of the time so Sam didn't feel too crowded, but also stayed just close enough to reassure the kid as much as himself. Occasional pats on the back, or a gently lingering hand on his arm whenever Dean was assisting the younger brother seemed to help and Sam's slowly returning smile was ample reward for all his hard work.

"You're doing just fine kiddo." Dean would tell him whenever things got a little too much. "Don't give up."

Gentle encouragement seemed to be the key and Sam certainly responded positively. Dean wondered if his Dad had ever thought about trying it on the younger brother during the more difficult stages of puberty, instead of his usual gruff, bull in a china shop approach. Things might have turned out different.

But then the softly-softly approach had never been John's style.

All Dean wished for now was for Sam to trust him enough to open up and talk. There was something weighing heavily on the kid's mind, Dean was certain, and though he had his own ideas about it he just didn't want to push Sam before he was ready. For once, Dean exercised the patience his brother needed, and waited for Sam to come to him.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

That patience paid off in huge dividends towards the end of the second week. The drugs had faded but Sam still tired easily and fell asleep on the porch swing during the day, his book, or whatever his current reading material happened to be, fallen down to his blanket covered knees. He could manage some _very_ light lifting and even then it was painful; Dean tried to discourage him from unnecessary use but his kid brother sure was one stubborn sonofabitch.

Dean was changing the oil and filter on the Impala when two large feet appeared beside him and a tentative voice spoke up almost shyly.

"Uh, Dean?"

Crawling out from underneath the car, Dean squinted up at his little brother. Sam was still too pale and shaky but at least he could stay awake for more than an hour at a time, even if he did look like an overgrown six year old these days, with that worried, nervous smile.

"Sammy you should be resting up dude," Dean tried so hard to keep from feeling guilty every time he saw him, but guilt was still a hard and unyielding task master. "What you doing out here?"

"Thought you might want some lunch...and maybe some c-company?" Sam nervously held out a plate of sandwiches with a poorly concealed grimace at the sharp twinge in his wrists...then ruined it all with a violent sway as a wave of exhaustion washed over him.

"Easy." Dean caught him and pushed the kid into the front passenger seat lest he keeled over completely. "Sam how long you been up?"

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, waiting for the vertigo to desist.

"What time is it now?"

"Just passed two."

"Four hours then."

Dean shook his head. "Sammy go lie down for a spell. You don't need to push yaself so hard."

"Spent most of the last couple weeks lying down. Besides, I…" Sam sighed heavily. "I just wanted to talk to you dude."

He sounded so sad and lost Dean didn't have the heart to deny him, and after all, this _was_ what he'd hoped for. For Sam to finally confide in him.

"Sure." Dean settled into a crouch in front of him, watching as the kid fiddled nervously with his long shirt sleeves, self-consciously pulling them over the bandages. The day was unseasonably warm but Sam still refused to wear T-shirts.

"What's on ya mind?"

Sam appeared to make a few false starts before he finally came out with it.

"You're not the only one who said some terrible things, and I'm sorry Dean. I had no right…" Sam sniffed loudly.

"So you heard me? When you were unconscious?" Dean eyed him with concern when Sam nodded wearily. That was a bit of a surprise. "What did it do to you? The demon I mean."

Sam nodded again, though this time there was even more reluctance. "Yeah it, uh, messed with my head big time. Something latched on to the back of my mind, blew all my fears and doubts up out of proportion." He paused wondering whether to go on.

But Dean just sat there, silently encouraging him. He wondered what else Sam heard him say.

"Scared the hell out of me…" A single tear slipped down his face. "…never felt so alone. Thought you hated me, thought _Dad_ hated me, though maybe that aint so far from the truth."

"Sam…"

"He told you to _kill_ me Dean!" Sam suddenly cried out. "_His own son_. Don't matter if he turns out to be right about me, it still hurts so goddamn much. So we fought and hardly ever agreed on anything but I at least thought he _loved_ me!"

Dean heard the pain in his little brother's voice and didn't have a clue how to fix it. But that didn't mean he wouldn't try.

"Sam, he did ok? Dad loved you more than life itself." _S__o do I._ "Whatever he was talking about? It was just a precaution dude, that's why he said _might_. And why dya think he left that with me? I'll fucking _tell_ ya why. 'Cos he knew you stood a better chance with me, that I knew..._know_ you better than that. He understood deep down I'd never find a reason to."

"But could you?" Sam raised heartbroken eyes to his. "I mean, supposing he's right. I don't wanna hurt anybody, least of all you."

Dean stared back. "You won't hurt me Sam." His hand snaked out and gently grabbed at the nape of Sam's neck, giving him a small shake. "And I know you won't hurt anybody else."

Sam studied the fierce expression on his brother's face and felt his heart lift up in wonder at the total faith he saw there.

"H-how?" he whispered shakily. "How can you be so sure?"

"Simple." Dean shifted a little, knees cramping up from being crouched down for too long. "Most of the other victims became violent, murdering people in cold blood before taking their own lives. You didn't Sammy. I'm willing to bet cold hard cash that hurting someone else didn't even cross your mind."

And oddly enough it suddenly occurred to Dean that it hadn't crossed _his_ mind either, in spite of the anger and fear he'd felt. It was vaguely reassuring. Sam sniffed and nodded, unable to respond in any other way. The tears continued to roll down his face, soaking the collar of his shirt.

"That speaks volumes about you dude." Dean leaned forward and wrapped both arms round his softly crying brother, one hand reaching up to cradle the back of Sam's head. "And Sam? I don't know what else you heard when you were unconscious, but I meant every word."

He felt Sam smile against his neck. "I only heard a little, like listening under water."

"_Right._" Dean scowled. "Don't make me say it again."

"Say what Dean?" Sam replied, all sweetness and light, but Dean could feel the small tremor in Sam's shoulders. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Pulling back a little, Dean glared at his brother whilst Sam just gazed back innocently, a small shadow of hope and sadness lingering in his eyes.

_May be this is it._ Dean thought privately, _if the demon still has a hold over us. May be this is what finishes it..._

He nodded and cleared his throat, feeling awkward as hell.

"Love you Sammy. Always have." Dean whispered huskily and sniffed as Sam blinked rapidly, eyes still a little moist. "Always will. Just don't leave me again bitch."

"Love you too ya big ol' jerk." Sam croaked back, narrowly avoiding that last statement. That was a promise he couldn't keep. He needed to get a handle on all this somehow and he couldn't drag Dean into it, wouldn't be fair to him.

Sam's mind was made up. As soon as he was strong enough, he would head out to the Roadhouse and quiz Ellen, put out some feelers and find the other _special children._

Find out what the YED had planned for them all.

In the meantime, Sam rested in his brother's arms, taking comfort where he could.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

**Hope that lived up to your expectations everyone. Plenty of Dean taking care of a sick Sammy, and Dean finally telling his brother what he needed to hear – **_**whilst Sam's awake!**_

**If the ending seems a little confusing (I hope not otherwise I'm gonna feel like a right plank), please bear in mind that this is meant to lead up to the next episode on the show: Hunted. At some point in the not too distant future I plan to do a kind of sequel to this, but more in the format of an AU ending to Hunted.**

**Many thanks for all your reviews and support. I look forward to seeing you all at the big launch of the top secret fic this Friday.**

**Cheers again.**

**Kind regards,**

**ST xxx **


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